The Perils of Seeking for the Other Team
by Solacein10
Summary: Harry's usually complete concentration while he is playing quiddich is no where to be seen. The reason- a certain blonde, Slytherin Seeker who is unconsciously stealing his attention and keeping Harry's eyes on him, rather than on the snitch. Will this be the moment Harry finally loses the snitch to Malfoy?


**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and all it's characters belong to J K Rowling.

Author's note: Please rate and review! Constructive criticism and thoughts on the story are greatly appreciated!

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**The Perils of Seeking for the Other Team:**

'Being gay sucks,' Harry thought as he scanned the air from his position above the rest of the players. 'Of course, being gay _and_ a player in a game predominantly filled with men sucks even worse,' he carried on in his head. Conversations with himself such as this, where he contemplated the advantages of being a gay quiddich player (most of the team _were_ boys so he had plenty to look at everyday) against the disadvantages (it was quite distracting to both play and boy-watch at the same time), were becoming more and more frequent.

'Definitely _distracting', _he thought as he watched all the men below him swoop from one end of the pitch to the other. This particular game, although, was more distracting than any of the others had been. Because they were playing against the Slytherins—and that meant that he was playing against Malfoy.

His eyes stupidly decided to show him the other boy again; the blonde Adonis flying gently on his broom twenty feet from him, scanning the air for the snitch.

'And that's what _I _should be doing as well,' he thought as he swung around to face the other side of the pitch. He watched with glee as his team scored another goal. They were now leading by, he looked at the scoreboard to see, a hundred points. His team this year was pretty good, if he said so himself. Both Peakes and Coote were good beaters and, more importantly, they knew when to hit the bludger and where. Unlike them, Crabbe and Goyle were hitting whenever they had the opportunity at any red-clad player they could see. Which was, as Harry thought about it, effective in its own way.

Ginny was on fire; she had scored a good two-thirds of the goals and was probably instrumental in the others as well. In fact, the Holyhead Harpies had already scouted Ginny as a reserve chaser—something Ron had been both jealous and proud of. She was just that good. Not to say that the others weren't good players as well. Katie proved time and again why she had been selected into the team six years in a row Demelza was extremely good at stealing the quaffle.

Suddenly, he caught the glint of something golden next to the Hufflepuff stands and swooped down towards it. In the corner of his eye, he could see Malfoy do the same as well. He reached the stands in seconds and scanned around for the snitch. When he saw the glint again, he whipped his head up and scowled when he realized what it had been—someone's watch. He stayed where he was and tried to search for the snitch from his new vantage point. Dimly, he heard the announcer say, "-and both Potter and Malfoy stop as quickly as they had started. They must not have found the snitch. And there goes Weasley again with the quaffle in her hand. Passing to Robins, to Bell, back to Robins. The Keeper doesn't seem to know whom to look at; they're passing so fast! And Robins scores!"

Harry grinned again and, deciding that being higher was the better location, started to climb up the air to where he had been before. Malfoy was closer to him that before, now, and Harry spent a second, or a hundred, admiring his blonde hair. It fell so perfectly down his face, even with all the flying and swerving they were doing. His own probably looked like a rat's nest right now. As if he knew he was being watched, Malfoy suddenly swiveled around and looked directly at him. They stared at each other over the expanse of the sky between them for a couple of seconds before a slow smile lighted up Malfoy's face.

'So pretty,' Harry thought. As he watched, Malfoy started flying towards him, his smile taking on a new character. By the time Malfoy reached Harry, it had become the smirk he was so used to seeing.

"Enjoying the view, Potter?"

Harry scowled at him—'Yes!'—"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

The blonde's smirk widened, "Don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me this whole time."

Harry frowned then, had he really been that obvious?

"Yes, you are being that obvious." Malfoy replied to the unasked question. Seeing the look on Harry's face, he continued, "It's all right there on your face, Potter. It's like you're displaying your thoughts. In color and with pictures attached."

Harry rolled his eyes and started turning away; who knew what else the Slytherin would find looking at his face? Before he could fly away though, he heard Draco say,

"I'm not adverse to the idea, myself."

Harry glanced back at him a little wearily, "And what idea is that?"

Draco smirked, "Playing around a little." With that, he crossed the space between them and floated right next to Harry. To all those watching from below, it would probably look like he was just talking to Harry. Which he wasn't. Instead, he had a placed a hand on Harry's thigh and was running it up and down, caressing through the fabric of the trousers.

'Oh my god, _oh my god_, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_' were the only things running through Harry's mind at that moment. This was a dream come true for him. Draco Malfoy touching him like _that_. It probably _was_ a dream. The idea that this was happening, in mid-air nonetheless, was incredulous. And so, it had to be a dream.

"Oh, it's happening" Malfoy said suddenly.

"Fuck." Harry whispered as the hand moved to his abdomen, gently touching the muscles there. It went up a little, to Harry's collarbone, which got a little caress as well. At this point, Harry was breathing heavily and distinctly flustered. The things Malfoy was doing to him—all through these simple touches!

Harry wanted to reciprocate. He really did. But he couldn't even manage to breathe properly, much less lift a hand. So he just sat there and took it, gasping slightly as Malfoy's hand slid down again and started lightly touching his crotch. The harder breathing became for Harry, the more Malfoy pressed his hand, slightly rubbing it after a while.

"You like that?" Malfoy said softly, all teasing gone from his voice. He sounded quite serious actually, almost like he was doing this for Harry, and not for some twisted sense of satisfaction that he would gain by touching the Golden Boy.

"Yes!" Harry gasped. He started thrusting forward a little, managing to do it without jostling his broom. He looked up to see Malfoy's face. There was a small smile on it, but also a slight furrow to his brow—like he was concentrating on what he was doing.

"Do you do this often?" Harry managed to get out.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "What? Rub people off?"

"Distract them like this in mid-air. Not that I'm opposed to it, mind you."

The blonde chuckled, "No, I find myself quite surprised at the turn of events actually."

"Really? You're the one who started it!"

"Yes, but I wasn't quite certain how you would take me doing this." Malfoy glanced down at his hand, prompting Harry to look down as well. The hand was rubbing frantically now, and Harry was thrusting fast.

"I'm not certain why I'm letting you do this either." Harry said softly. He just hoped that they were high enough that no one would notice anything more than them being close together. He was close, really close. Just a few more seconds and he would be there. Just as he was climbing the crest, Malfoy suddenly grunted and pulled back. Within seconds, he was yards away. Harry looked at him wildly, wondering what he was doing. Malfoy nodded to behind Harry and the Gryffindor turned around to see Madam Hooch flying towards them.

"Is everything alright, boys?" she asked, eyeing Malfoy with suspicion. Of course, this might be because he looked calm and composed while Harry looked like he was going to start hyperventilating.

"Everything's alright, Madam." Harry tried to say as evenly as possible. "We were just discussing something.

She nodded unsurely but didn't move, obviously deciding to be present in case something happened. With a sigh, Harry flew away, knowing that Malfoy would do the same. But damn, he was frustrated—in all senses of the word.

Fifteen minutes later Gryffindor won the match as Harry Potter dove down a hundred feet almost vertical chasing after the snitch, and final catching it. Draco Malfoy had been inches behind him.

As soon as he got to the ground, Harry jumped off his broom and ran to the showers. He ignored the calls of congratulation behind him and pushed into the Gryffindor locker room, pulling off his gloves at the same time. The last fifteen minutes had been awful. That little episode had left him wanting beyond belief, and he had spent the time furiously searching for the snitch so that he could end the game and get some relief. He removed his elbow and kneepads and went to the showers, fully clothed. He honestly couldn't be bothered at that moment. He turned on the water and got under the stream, putting his palms on the wall and leaning forward. He stayed like that for a while so that he could calm down. As much as he wanted to touch himself and get it over with, he also wanted to make it good. And that meant that he needed his bed, with a dozen privacy charms around him.

Dimly, he heard the rest of the team come in. They were all in good spirits, laughing and generally making a ruckus as they got out of their uniforms and got ready to go to the party that would surely be there in the common room. A few minutes later, Ron's head popped into the showers and he said, "Hey, mate, we're heading back to the Tower. You want to come with?"

Harry answered without turning around, "I will soon."

"You okay?" He sounded worried. Of course, that could be because of the fact that Harry was currently showering with his clothes on.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he looked back to give Ron a small smile, "Just really tired."

"Okay." With that, Ron left and after a few minutes, the locker room was quiet again. Sighing, Harry started striping out of his clothes, dropping them on the floor behind him as he did. He stood under the shower for a few more minutes and, with a sigh, closed the tap and stepped out of the shower, clothes in hand. He dried himself with a spell and put on a sweatshirt and jeans. He dried his quiddich uniform as well and hung it up where all the other uniforms were. He picked up his broom and slowly walked out of the locker rooms, wondering about how a few extra seconds would have made all the difference.

Preoccupied, he didn't notice the blonde Slytherin waiting for him beside the path to the castle. He'd almost passed the blonde when he heard him call out, "Forgotten about me already?"

Harry spun around and stared at Malfoy. After a few seconds of incomprehension, and making sure that he wasn't imagining things, he smiled and replied, "The opposite actually."

"Really, now." The blonde said wryly.

Harry nodded vigorously, "Yeah."

Malfoy smiled widely and fell into step beside Harry as they walked back to the castle. They moved in comfortable silence for a little while, both filled with their own thoughts of each other. As they reached the Entrance Hall, where they had to split, Malfoy said,

"Do you want to meet in the Room of Requirement and finish what we started?"

Harry grinned, "Hell, yeah!"

The blonde laughed and nodded, "Say, in half an hour?"

Harry nodded back and, with a wave, parted from the Slytherin and started walking to the Common Room.

'Being gay,' he thought, 'was _awesome!'_


End file.
